Anna Jacobs (11 page)

At the top of the final set of stairs was a smaller space than on the floor below, unwalled and showing the roof beams. It was filled with lumber and broken furniture. That would need sorting out, she thought, grimacing at its dusty disarray. How strange to think that she and Matthew owned all this now. Merry must have been airing the attic, and it certainly needed it, because yet another door stood ajar at the far end.

She pushed that open to find herself out on the roof itself, where a lively wind whipped more of her unruly hair from beneath her muslin cap. Taking a deep breath of the bracing air and smiling in pleasure, she moved forward across the roof walk that led out between the sloping tiles towards the edge. It didn’t feel as secure as she’d expected, but she forgot that in the enjoyment of the space and freedom up here! Breathing deeply, she did nothing but hold her face up to the sun and let it warm her skin for a moment or two.

Which saved her life.

As she moved on again towards the stone rail that edged the walk, intending to lean against it and enjoy the view, someone screeched her name from below and yelled, “Stop! Mrs Pascoe, stop where you are!” She froze instinctively, staring down.

Merry was waving her arms furiously. “Don’t touch that railing!” she shrieked in a voice that could have been heard miles away. “It’s rotten. Pieces of it fell off in the last storm. And don’t move from there. Some of the walk isn’t safe.”

Deborah stared along the rest of this part of the roof, seeing the gaps in the stone railing which she hadn’t noticed in her initial pleasure at the glorious views.

“I’ll fetch Mr Matthew.” Merry rushed off towards the stables.

So Deborah stood there, feeling a shiver of apprehension in spite of the warmth of the sun on her skin. Elkin had waxed eloquent about this walk. Had he known it was in disrepair? Tried to tempt her out here on purpose? Surely not?

The wind tugged at her hair and when she put one hand up to adjust her cap, it whipped the piece of muslin off her head. It flew away, dipping and twisting on the breeze, then as the wind suddenly eased it fluttered to the ground. She would not have fallen so lightly. She would have dropped like a stone if she’d leaned against that railing and she’d not have survived. Her throat was dry with fear and she didn’t dare move an inch.

Where was Matthew? It seemed a very long time before she heard footsteps and turned to see her grim-faced husband standing in the attic doorway.

“I’ll not come out to you,” he said. “Better not add extra weight to that roof. The whole of this section needs repairing and some of the joists are rotten. You were lucky not to have fallen through it.”

Which made her feel even more afraid to move.

His voice grew gentler. “If you got out safely, you can get back safely too, Deborah. But I think you should move along the slope, not the flat part.” When she didn’t move, he added softly, “Don’t think about what might happen and don’t move jerkily. But whatever you do, don’t bump against that railing. It’s heavy and if it fell it could pull some of the roof with it.”

For a moment fear paralysed her, then she took two hesitant steps and stopped again. There was a creaking sound below her.

“Try to get to the sloping part,” he urged. “Quickly!”

The wind teased her hair out to stream behind her and there was a grating sound from below her feet.

As the part where she was standing shook beneath her feet, she flung herself forward to the sloping part.

“Flatten yourself against it, Deborah!”

She pressed her body against the tiles as the tiles shifted behind her.

“Stay there.”

The creaking and grating noises stopped.

“Push yourself up a little and edge along the gutter,” he ordered. “Slowly. Try not to move jerkily.”

Again she obeyed him, trusting him instinctively. It seemed to take a very long time and if it hadn’t been for his low voice, encouraging and coaxing, she might not have had the courage to move again. But that voice was there, drawing her onwards. She didn’t look sideways, just edged along carefully.

Behind her the rotten timbers were still groaning and once he shouted, “Stop!” as they subsided again.

Then the slow movement began again.

When a timber snapped suddenly behind her, she moaned, but he reached out, holding the door frame with one hand and grabbed her upper arm. As he dragged her swiftly into the attic doorway, another piece of timber cracked like a whip, tiles shifted and with a sob she clung to him until the noise had stopped.

“It’s all right,” he murmured into her hair. “We’re safe here. It’s only that part of the roof that’s rotten. Shh. It’s all right.” For a moment he simply held her shaking body close, then he pushed her to arm’s length and demanded harshly, “Whatever got into you to come up here?”

She was hurt by his tone. “I had nothing to do and thought I would enjoy the view. Mr Elkin said—”

“Elkin? What did he say?”

“He told me about the roof walk this morning, said there was a beautiful view from up here.”

“So he suggested you come up here?”

She considered that for a moment, then shook her head. “No. He spoke about the roof walk, that’s all. Modern houses don’t have them. I was bored and interested to see one.” She shuddered again. “Only I hadn’t realised it would be so dangerous.” Her voice wobbled on the words and she began to shiver again as she thought of how close to death she had come.

With an inarticulate murmur Matthew folded her close and held her until the shaking had stopped. She clung to him gratefully.

“You could have been killed,” he said throatily. “Dear God, you could so easily have been killed.”

She looked up at him, mute still with reaction, and he pressed a kiss on her forehead.

“But you weren’t,” he said gently. “And I’m glad of that.”

She was about to reply when they heard footsteps running up the stairs. Both turned instinctively to see who it was.

“Stay there!” Matthew called.

Elkin appeared at the top of the stairs, but did not move forward. “Merry told me what had happened. Are you all right, Cousin Deborah?”

“No thanks to you,” Matthew snarled. “Why did you set the idea of the roof walk in her mind?”

“I was telling her about the house. And if you’re hinting what I think you are, you’d have more reason to see her dead than I would!” Elkin snapped back. “You know now that you left it too late to win Ralph’s favour and made a mistake marrying her—I’ve seen his will, don’t forget, and it leaves everything to me. So now you wish to rid yourself of a burden.”

He turned to Deborah and moderated his voice, “But I do blame myself in part. I’m sorry I even mentioned the roof walk. How could I know that part of the roof was in such a poor state? What a godsend the girl saw you and shouted a warning!”

Deborah could only stare from one to the other. Was there any truth in these accusations and counter-accusations? No, of course not. A very little thought reassured her. Matthew knew she was to inherit and had been a willing partner in the marriage, so why should he want her dead? And yet Elkin didn’t know she was to inherit, so had no reason whatsoever for trying to kill her. It had been an accident, that was all, just an unfortunate accident.

Hadn’t it?

Matthew moved away from her to study the outer door. “Did you unlock it, Deborah? I gave strict orders that it was to be kept locked at all times.”

“It was already open.”

“Did you take the key out?”

She wondered why he was going on about that when all she wanted to do was get away from Elkin and spend a few minutes recovering. “No. There was none.”

“Now how can that be?” Elkin wondered, his voice heavy with innuendo. “Who could have taken it?”

“Who indeed? If we could trouble you to move from the stairs?” Matthew drew her with him. “Come on, love. You’ll want to rest until you’re more yourself.”

Deborah managed a tremulous smile. “I’ll be all right soon. I just need a minute or two to compose myself. After all, I wasn’t hurt.” But for all her brave words, she was still shaking and was glad to lay her hand on Matthew’s shoulder and allow him to guide her slowly down the narrow stairs.

On the servants’ floor Merry was waiting, her face lighting up as she saw Deborah. “Eh, I’m that glad you’re all right, Mrs Pascoe! I fair near died when I saw you standing up there.”

“I’m fine, really I am. But thank you for warning me. I think you saved my life.”

Matthew’s voice still had a sharp edge to it. “Mrs Pascoe would appreciate a tea tray in the library now and no doubt you have plenty of work to keep you busy, preparing for tomorrow, Merry.”

She left without a word, casting him a reproachful glance for his sharp tone as she turned away.

He took Deborah down to the library and sat with her on the sofa to wait for the refreshments, his arm curled loosely round her shoulders. She appreciated that, still needing the comfort of his presence.

Elkin followed them, throwing himself on a chair opposite to sprawl at ease and watch them with that cold gaze of his. They couldn’t talk privately, but when she glanced sideways at her husband, he gave her a half-smile and she felt instantly reassured.

At the sight of that exchange the face of the man opposite them turned into a bitter mask, as if he hated the pair of them. It made her wonder suddenly what she would have done if Ralph Jannvier had asked her to marry Elkin. She didn’t think she could have done it. Something inside her instinctively shrank from even touching his hand.

On that thought she almost reached out to clasp Matthew’s hand, but stopped herself. Maybe he wouldn’t want such a demonstration of her vulnerability in front of Elkin. She thought she could trust her husband, yes, of course she could.

But who had unlocked the door to the roof? And why?

Surely no one would want her dead?

Chapter 6

Not until Elkin left them did Matthew leave Deborah’s side. “I have to send for the local carpenter to replace the rotten roof timbers. Will you be all right?”

“Yes, of course.” But she missed him and was relieved when he rejoined her just before one o’clock.

Soon afterwards, Mrs Elkin came downstairs, assisted by Elkin. The older woman was walking hesitantly, as if unsure whether her legs would support her. She was pale enough to lend credence to the idea that she wasn’t well, but it seemed to Deborah that she was nervous more than anything. She sat with them in the parlour waiting for dinner to be served, hardly opening her mouth. And whenever she did respond to a remark, she would flick a quick, anxious glance towards her son as if to check that she had not said the wrong thing.

His face remained bland and his remarks were all of the latest fashions in London or gossip about London figures of fashion of whom the rest of them knew nothing and cared even less.

But his eyes were watchful, Deborah thought, and his gaze moved from his mother to her then across to Matthew, as if he didn’t trust any of them..

At two o’clock they were served a generous but plain dinner by Mrs Simley. Only the gentlemen did it justice, however. Deborah still seemed to hear the thumps of the pieces of masonry falling to the ground and the roof timbers cracking. Although she insisted she was all right, she felt on edge.

Matthew’s servant, Jem, rode across the rear of the garden to the stables just as the meal was over. After he’d dismounted they could see him carrying a pair of saddlebags towards the house.

“Where has he been?” Elkin demanded. “And who gave him permission to leave Marymoor when he should be working?”

“I did, because he works for me, not for the estate. I do have other interests than the farm.” Matthew spoke indifferently, not even watching as Jim vanished in the direction of the kitchen.

“Oh yes, I keep forgetting that you own a common alehouse!” Elkin laughed scornfully. “Your husband will be able to support you in style, Cousin Deborah. I hope you enjoy the prospect of serving ale to ploughboys!”

“I don’t disdain any honest work,” she said quietly, forcing herself to eat something, she could not have said what.

Elkin scowled at her and addressed himself to his food once again.

His mother laid down her knife and fork with a sigh. “I find I’m not very hungry today. I feel a little—nauseous.”

When Matthew had finished eating, he looked at Deborah. “If you’ve finished your meal, my dear, I’d like a private word with you.”

As she followed him outside, she couldn’t help letting out a sigh of relief to be away from Elkin.

“Bear up. Only another day and we’ll be shut of them for ever, because they live close enough to get home before dark. After that I shan’t allow any Elkin into this house again. Now, I have something to show you, something pleasant, I hope, for a change.” He led the way, taking the stairs two at a time and she followed more sedately.

On their bed they found the saddlebags Jim had carried into the house.

“They’re for you. Open them,” Matthew waved one hand in their direction, looking expectant.

Wondering what this was about, she unbuckled the first one, to find a bundle wrapped in a piece of plain linen. Inside was some silky material and when she shook it out, she found an open robe in black silk with a trained overskirt.

“I hope it fits you,” he said.

She held it against herself, looking down at it in delight, then up at him with a smile. “It’s beautiful!” The stomacher and petticoat were in figured black silk to contrast with the heavy silk of the main garment, and there was a black-edged handkerchief in delicate white muslin to fill in the rather low neckline. The skirts were full enough to support modest hoops and when she turned to the second saddlebag, she found a short linen petticoat with cane hoops sewn into it and another full-length petticoat in fine lawn.

Tears came into her eyes. “Thank you.”

Matthew’s voice was gentle and understanding. “I thought you would wish to be suitably clad tomorrow when you meet some of our neighbours after the funeral, though I cannot guarantee these will fit properly, so you may have to alter them.”